


What's in a Name?

by Delia_Maguire



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Hank Being Awesome, M/M, Mentioned Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Minor Character Death, Minor Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delia_Maguire/pseuds/Delia_Maguire
Summary: Even as life for Detroit's freed androids settles into some semblance of pleasant normalcy, pointed reminders that they are not truly human remain.As DPD's first android staff member, Connor is allotted a desk complete with nameplate  but there's an emptiness about it that he can't ignore...Or, the story of how Connor got a last name.





	What's in a Name?

The android revolution had been a complete success, better than anyone could’ve expected, in fact. After a heroic android most didn’t even know the name of was witnessed tearing out his own heart so that the deviant leader, Markus, may live, the people of the world had no choice but to accept the fact that androids were, in fact, sentient beings with the capacity to feel, to love, and to lose. Troops had been called off at once and as soon as things had settled, the legal side of things had kicked in to begin procuring androids the rights and freedoms they’d given so much to earn. It was a dream come true. 

For his pivotal role in fighting for android rights, Markus had offered Connor a place in Jericho and unconditional protection against vengeful humans and Cyberlife alike but the electronic detective had refused the kind offer without a second thought. Now that the RK800 model had a mind of his own to think what he wanted and tangible feelings to act upon rather than programing to follow, there was no question where he wanted to be. Despite unnerving doubts that this course of action was encouraged by lingering traces of his programing, Connor went back to the Detroit Police Department with the intent to continue his position as Hank’s partner for as long as he was able.

However, the moment the android met the lieutenant at Chicken Feed and felt himself smile in return to the almost relieved grin the man sent his way, Connor knew that he’d come there of his own accord - When Hank hugged him, the last of these lingering doubts were blown away for good. This wasn’t something the android’s programing dictated he do. This was what Connor  _ wanted. _

For awhile, Connor was allotted a position at the DPD only due to the fact that Hank vouched for him and, in the end, the lieutenant actually had to agree that the android was his property before Fowler could legally allow the deviant to resume his place at his partner’s side. It was a messy situation, sure, but Connor never minded all that much, the android was merely pleased to have reclaimed his previous position and, besides, most decent cops, like Chris, understood that it was all just legal bullshit anyway and treated Connor no different than any other human on the force. The ones that didn’t (See: Gavin Reed) didn’t bother the RK800 android really, he was already well accustomed to such treatment and could care less if some assholes threw him the occasional glare or snide remark pertaining to how he really was Hank’s plastic pet now or some other equally ineffective statement. 

Connor had absolutely zero qualms about being Hank’s and the only person that seemed actually pissed off by the deal was the lieutenant himself - Which was why it made perfect sense that it was actually Hank that got to the electronic detective with the big news before Fowler or anyone else more official could tell the RK800 model. 

The legalities had been worked out - It was declared that androids were, from there on out, to be considered a sentient species equal with humans in every regard… And Connor was officially a member of the force, still as Hank’s partner of course, but now on paper as such - As a person, not as a piece of property. 

It was official, in pen and paper: Connor was Hank’s partner… And he was so  _ happy. _

Not long after, the android was called into Fowler’s office, where the same news was delivered to the RK800 model with much less enthusiasm but no less welcome - It would forever remain a mystery whether Fowler was just relieved to finally have the ongoing issue that was Connor and his loudmouth advocates settled or wether the police chief was genuinely happy to introduce the first android to the team. Though, Connor’s sensors picked up more than just grim relief and acceptance when his new boss informed the electronic man he was officially on payroll.

That growing suspicion was only further confirmed when the guy reached to the side of his desk and pulled a shiny, white item from the corner of the overcrowded surface, though how the man managed to pinpoint the item in that haphazard mess would forever mystify Connor. “All members of the force are given one of these as part of their welcome package,” Fowler began slowly as he turned the item to face the newly hired android. “A small thanks for your life, of course, but…” The dude continued carefully, his voice cautious despite the fact that the beginnings of a warm smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “I think it’s finally time you got yours.” Fowler concluded and pushed forward what was unmistakably one of the customary plaques positioned on the edge of every policeman’s desk in the area just beyond the clear glass doors.

The hard plastic skidded noisily along the edge of the metallic desk as it was shoved along the sleek surface and its reflective, white stained surface glinted brilliantly under the shimmering fluorescent lights of the DPD and gleamed with the shine of them to almost blot out the letters printed across its pristine, markless surface. However, the bright, radiant light wasn’t nearly enough to stop Connor’s keen eyes from reading the name printed neatly across the clean plastic surface - His own name in bold fonted letters that were blocky and almost ugly in their harsh appearance but seemed the most elegant and ornate text to ever be fashioned in the android’s widening eyes. 

“Thank you, Captain Fowler. I won’t let you down.” Connor promised stiffly, his voice attempting to catch in his throat at every opportunity as the RK800 model tentatively reached out both hands and gently plucked the item from the counter, holding it delicately with just the tips of his fingers as if the electric man expected the thing to sweep like dust through his grip if he dared handle it too roughly. 

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, kid.” Fowler snorted dismissively, waving the emotional robot off before gesturing graciously towards the door the moment the droid attempted to open his mouth and express his gratitude in is fullness.

Connor moved out of the glass office with his cherished prize poised gently between his hands on instinct alone, truly behaving as a robot for once in his life as his body drove him from the room and towards his usual desk -  _ His  _ desk - across from Hank on autopilot while his mind remained as blank as one of the many unused canvases lying around Markus’ base back at Jericho - The revolutioner claiming to have lost his will to create. The heterochromic android did tend to simply splatter a lot of blue paint across the white surfaces quite often, however. Though the reason as to why this was the case was unknown to Connor and Markus usually appeared far to distraught while commiting this act for the RK800 model to even think of questioning his friend on it, the leader’s chest often heaving with unnecessary but ragged breaths and his mismatched eyes red rimmed with watery pain by the time he was finished slinging the single color across the empty surface of the canvas.

“Hey, Connor! I heard Fowler called ya’ in!” Hank’s gruff voice abruptly cut through the Rk800 model’s thoughts as Connor finally reached his destination and his partner glanced up from his own desk to greet him. “How’s it feel to be part of the team?” The lieutenant prompted eagerly, gravely voice light with humor and jest but still brought up from its usual brusk tones with genuine happiness that his android companion didn’t need thousand dollar sensors to pick up.

“I…” Connor tried to begin but could go no further as his failing voice finally got the better of him and the android choked on the words in is throat, his brown eyes stinging with an unfamiliar prick that was all but foreign to the electronic detective as his hands began to shake where they tightly clasped his cherished plaque against his chest as if it were a million dollar artifact Indiana Jones himself was about to swoop in and try to steal away.

“Connor?” Hank pressed when the android failed to continue on, but the originally teasing and slightly impatient prompt quickly shifted into an startled “Shit!” when the man’s fabricated partner was still unable to respond appropriately and could do no more than stare up at the slightly taller male in stunned silence.

Connor could feel his lips fall open stupidly as he attempted to mouth some intelligent words only to come up with a soft croak to speak for his stellar response. The sharp pricks of pain plaguing the android’s eyes quickly evolved into an overall vague burn before the RK800 model became aware of hot, wetness pooling in the corners of his occipital receptors, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Fuck! What did he say to you?” Hank growled angrily as the man startled upright out of his wheeled office chair and haphazardly lurched the small distance between him and his android partner, apparently not taking the extra time to be considerate of how his body was moving  as his arm collided with the small, bonsai tree at the edge of his desk and sent the potted plant crashing to the unforgiving ground below where its ceramic home shattered on impact to litter the floor with jagged shards. Hank, however, seemed to not notice this occurrence whatsoever, the man too busy grasping a strong hand around either one of Connor’s lank arms to tug the overloaded android towards himself a centimeter.

Connor didn’t trust his cracking voice at the moment, so the electric man simply opted to lift up the amazing plaque that had elicited such a strong emotional response instead, extending the thing towards his companion with trembling hands that left the wonderful creation shaking in his steel tight grip so that it was a wonder his partner was able to read it at all. The android just felt so  _ much _ it was impossible to subdue his body’s harsh reaction, translucent warnings popping up in the corner of the android’s vision informing him his thirum pump regulator was acting amiss and his internal body temperature had already risen eight degrees higher than its normal flat reading.

“Jesus Christ, Con! ‘Bout gave me a fucking heart attack!” Hank sighed exasperatedly, running a large hand over his face so that his aging skin stretched under the slow drag of the weighty limb as the lieutenant let his other hand drop from where it had remained clasping Connor’s upper arm to grip the desk where he leaned heavily against it.

More than a little startled by the worrying declaration, the android performed a quick vital scan of his companion, aware of his LED flashing yellow for a brief moment as it spun with the procedure before mellowing back to a cool blue when the scan presented no negative information at its conclusion. Hank’s heartbeat was, admittedly, slightly irregular but the man’s heart rate remained firmly in the range Connor deemed safe and steered clear of any dangerous levels. 

“I apologize, Lieutenant. If you feel you are at risk of medical-” Connor tried to suggest but his partner cut off the mechanical man’s spiel with a dismissive wave of his hand, dragging the limb from where it had rested against his face to bat veguay at the air as if the policeman were attempting to literally shoo his companion’s words away.

“Really gotta teach you about speaking metaphorically, Connor.” Hank huffed through a gravelly sort of laugh, now grinning freely at the android after the initial panic had subsided and the need to sock Fowler in his ugly mug no longer existed. 

Actually, Connor was well aware of this metaphorical speaking of which his companion spoke. The android had learned about it when, not long after the brunette robot had returned to the DPD, an newly developed RK900 model had been sent to the station. Cyberlife claimed to have already created the advanced prototype before the revolution and no longer had a use for it now that androids weren’t marketable produce anymore. This was, most certainly, an unsettling development at first as it clearly communicated that Connor’s creators were preparing to deactivate and replace the outdated RK800 android; but after Hank had adamantly (See: With lots of yelling and a dictionary sized addition to his already overflowing disciplinary folder) refused the new creation and it had been assigned to Gavin instead, things had settled out rather nicely - All except that time Detective Reed had offhandedly told the RK900 android to suck his dick…

“Whatever, I’m happy for you, Con.” Hank’s gravelly tones broke through the RK800 model’s musings once more, the man wearing a wide smile that left no room for falsehood in his statement as he slung a companionable arm over his official partner’s shoulder and gave the mechanical detective a congratulatory squeeze that easily pressed the smaller built android into the man’s wide side. 

“Me too, lieutenant.” Connor sighed out more than a little breathlessly as Hank finally released him and the android moved to place his new name plaque in its proper home on the desk pressed against Lieutenant Anderson’s, the RK800 model finding himself far more relieved at this unexpected turn of events than he’d anticipated. The electronic man positioned the small item just so, shifting it a bit to the right, then a tiny smidge to the left until it finally registered as perfectly centered to his keen sensors and the android backed up a pace to view the plaque in all its glory. For the love of rA9, he was so fucking _ happy. _

“What’s going on over here?”  The vaguely familiar, deep tones belonging to Chris broke through the silent moment in which Connor failed to do much more than stare in utter, shocked silence at his new name plate, the cop likely brought over by the ruckus Hank had created in his uncoordinated attempt to reach Connor - The shattered plant pot and unearthed bonsai tree still splattered across the floor a testament to that. 

“Connor here got himself a name plate!” Hank informed his friend boastfully, grinning proudly at the small plastic plaque as if it were some award he himself had won after years of tormentous work and cheesy action movie training montages with bad music playing in the background rather than a pointless piece of plastic.

“Shit, kid!” Chris congratulated cheerily, thumping the android companionably on the back as he too turned his gaze to the new addition to the nearly empty desk Connor usually occupied. However, after a moment, the man made a wondering sorta hum of concentration and his lips turned down in the slightest beginnings of a thoughtful frown as the cop gazed critically at the sleek piece of plastic. 

“Looks a little empty.” Chris conceded slowly after an agonizingly long moment, squinting thoughtfully at the name plaque as if he could fix this minor issue just by staring at the thing critically enough.

Connor cocked his head to the side slightly as he looked upon his plaque to see what Chris spoke of, hitherto having been too immensely elated over even being given the thing to really analyze it all that much. The android’s sensors tried to provide the RK800 model with a breakdown of the items makeup and materials but the mechanical man blinked the useless information away to actually look at his plaque for what it truly was, not what it was made of.

Androids were not crafted with last names, having no need for such an identifier when serial numbers were immeasurably more precise. Some droids - such as Markus, who had registered his last name as Manfred - had opted to take on the last names of a human companion, such as a father or lover, but, considering Connor had neither, the plaque only held his own first name and left a wide, blank space where any further identifier might’ve existed had the automated man been human. Admittedly, due to this inconvenience, the plaque did look rather empty. 

Connor made a soft noise of thoughtful acknowledgement but said nothing on the matter. It struck the electronic detective oddly for some reason unbeknownst to him, not having a last name. The small hangup felt like a pointed reminder that the android could never truly be human, no matter how alive Connor felt or how human he knew himself to be - He was an artificial creation and there would always be something to distinguish that.

“Maybe you can put your serial number on it.” Gavin Reed’s rough voice interrupted the android’s musings, causing Connor to startle slightly as the RK800 model had been unaware of the detective's presence until that moment. 

Upon spinning around to see where the unexpected words had originated from, Connor found the man to be leaned against a desk nearby, holding a coffee cup from which steam still poured from the lid and wafted up to nearly mask the detective's face. The android briefly got the notion to warn Gavin of the exceptionally high temperature of his beverage but thought better of it in the end as the detective lifted the cup to his lips only to propmtly spat the scolding liquid from his mouth in an impressive display of gravity defying measure as the steamy brown coffee sprayed out in a magnificent fountain from Gavin’s lips. Truly, a commemorable feat. 

“Fucking androids!” Detective Reed spluttered haughtily through a watery choke as the last few remaining drops of his projectiled drink dripped from his lips and splattered messily down his front to ruin the once white shirt he’d been wearing. However, there appeared to be no actual malice behind the words, just as Connor could detect no cruel sarcasm behind the once antagonistic detective’s suggestion. Ever since RK900 had showed up, Gavin had at least been attempting to be less of an insufferable asshole, even if he wasn’t that great at it.

Beside Connor, Hank made a thoughtful sounding grunt, running his finger along his chin in concentration as his stormy blue eyes narrowed at the item upon the desk as if he were accusing it of some insult against the android just by existing the way it did. “Connor, can you grab me a coffee?” The lieutenant abruptly asked, any intense thoughtful look that had existed on the man’s aging face mere moments ago suddenly erased by an easy smile as if it’d never been there in the first place.

Connor paused for a brief moment before answering, the mechanical man’s LED whirling yellow for a quick flicker of a moment as the android tried to understand the odd request. It wasn’t like Hank to assign him such menial tasks… “Of course, lieutenant.” The RK800 model conceded with an impressively human shrug, Connor having been striving to embrace such human mannerisms since becoming deviant, though learning the statistically best times to implement such actions and practising exactly how to carry the tiny motions out to reflect utmost realism might’ve defeated the whole purpose of the thing. 

The android took leave of his small group of companions and made his way toward the familiar breakroom located sidelong to the halway extending the length of the DPD instead, though the electronic detective still caught the sound of Gavin angrily cursing over his ruined shirt in the distance. Connor gave a small nod of friendly acknowledgement to the android girl who’d since adopted the name Elina that always stood watch over the main working space of the DPD before finally reaching his destination and strolling over towards the coffee pot the RK800 model knew to be stored on the nearby counter.

“Nines!” Connor greeted enthusiastically as his gaze fell on the familiar white suit jacket with the title RK900 printed across it in bold letters the android had become accustomed enough to seeing to stop getting a small wave of nauseous fear every time he saw it and was reminded of what had almost been. The nickname had been of Gavin’s making, despite the fact that the newer model cop bot had adamantly refused the necessity of a title aside from his model number and still dismissed the need for anything so useless to this very day, though Connor could sense always the slight flux in the more advanced android’s vitals when someone actually called him by name rather than by number. 

“Greetings, Connor.” Nines replied in what most anyone else would probably have asserted as a cold tone, but Connor was far well versed enough in the slight fluctuations and intonations of the other android’s tone to acknowledge it as warm. The RK800’s intended successor turned from his previous task of popping the plastic lid on a cup of coffee to shoot his predecessor what was probably supposed to be a friendly smile but looked much more like a grimace gone horribly awry as half of the mechanical man’s lips tugged up stiffly as if they were being yanked that way by a fishing line why the other half of his mouth staid as straight as Captain Fowler.  Connor had spent hours trying to teach Nines how to smile once and the results had been… Less than promising to say the least. 

Nines looked nearly identical to Connor in every way save for an extremely subtle few differences that failed to readily present themselves to a casual eye. In all reality however, Nines’ hair was a few shades lighter than Conor’s own mahogany locks and the newer model was generally broader than his predecessor, though it was the few inches of extra height over the RK800 model that irked Connor to no end as it always made him look like the younger, more naive of the two - Some woman had even mistook Connor for Nines’ younger brother once! Still though, the pair could easily fool anyone save for Hank and maybe Gavin. 

“Detective Reed scalded himself on his coffee a moment ago.” Connor informed his companion with maybe a tad more amusement than he probably should’ve as the android grabbed a foam cup from the stack and reached for the half-full coffee pot. “The temperature you served it at was seven degrees hotter than the recommended heat and could be potentially dangerous to the human mouth.” The RK800 model railed off statistically as he tipped the weighty glass pot a bit and carefully poured a gracious amount of the dark liquid into the small cup. Since Hank always took his coffee black, there was no need to add anything else.

“Really?” Nines almost gasped, his pale eyes widening in mock surprise despite the fact that the corner of his lip obviously ticked up a centimeter higher to obliterate any convincing act of innocence. “I had no idea.” The android lied jovially, letting out a deep huff of air that sounded more like an irritated sigh than anything else but likely constituted a laugh in Nines’ book as the electronic man handed his near look alike a plastic lid and gave a small nod of acknowledgment before taking leave of the breakroom to head towards Gavin’s desk with what seemed to be a replacement drink of much more acceptable temperature firmly in hand.

Connor snapped the small, white lid onto its proper place at the top of his own cup and retreated from the counter after a moment as well, pausing only briefly to catch a glimpse of Markus speaking about whatever new laws had just been passed with his help on the breakroom TV before finally taking leave of the sideroom. The android owed the revolutionary a lot, including his new found official place at the DPD, and the mechanical man felt a deep pang of remorse for his friend knowing what he’d lost to get them here - The thought drove Connor to pick up his pace a bit to return to Hank as quickly as possible, eternally grateful to not have lost his partner as Markus had his and eager to be at the man’s side again to ease the feeling of grim fear that tugged at the android’s mechanical heart, knowing it could so easily have happened to him. 

With his slightly hastened pace, it took Connor approximately a minute and thirty two seconds to reach his desk from the breakroom, a seven minute and forty nine second trip altogether when added with the time it took the android to reach the breakroom and get the beverage itself. However, when Connor actually reached his desk and his expectant eyes fell on the scene before him, all such background processing ceased instantaneously. 

The android's name plaque sat nearly where he had left it, save the fact that it was now two inches off center to the left and three and a half inches farther back than the RK800 model had placed it himself. However, the plaque no longer looked quite as blank and empty as it did when Connor had left it naught but a few moments ago… 

Instead, scrawled after Connor’s own name in a shoddy, Sharpie scrawl, was written the surname “Anderson” in thick, bold letters.

The writing was messy, sloppy and imperfect in such a way that not even a blind man could mistake it being for professionally printed like its preceding text  - But it was the most beautiful thing Connor had ever seen. It was so, incredibly human in its imperfection and the android felt his thirum pump regulator begin to stutter ineffectually before the notification for the malfunctioning process even pinged into the android’s vision. 

The plaque looked complete with the new addition. Complete in a way Connor felt deep inside himself as the android sucked in a shuddering breath he didn’t need to take and promptly dropped the coffee cup he was quickly beginning to realize Hank hadn’t actually wanted in the first place.

“What is it with this floor and shit getting spilled on it today?” Hank’s familiar gruff tones drifted into Connor’s audio processor, the man’s voice light with an obviously forced ease as a stiff awkwardness broke the simple sentence into far more choppy parts than it ever needed to be in.

Connor snapped his head to the side to stare at the man who’d just unofficially offered him his last name and found nothing in his extensive human relations program to aid him in his fruitless quest to find something to say. “My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” Is all that the deviant actually managed to come up with in the end as that was, after all, his preprogrammed default response. Real crowd stopper. 

“Yeah, guess I probably should’ve asked you first,” Hank huffed out heavily, scratching the back of his head and looking anywhere but at his android partner, seemingly very interested in the bleeding coffee stains maring the once clean floor all of the sudden, but the human got no farther into what was likely going to be an absolutely unnecessary apology as Connor all but flung himself at his partner.

“Thank you, Hank!” Connor -  _ Connor Anderson _ \- mumbled breathlessly into his partner’s shoulder as his slender arms wound there way tightly about the man who made him human and clung on for dear life, long fingers twisting into the fabric of the lieutenant's jacket like the policeman were an anchor and Connor was a ship lost at sea.

Hank said nothing in response but wrapped his own arms around his companion, unabashedly holding the android close as one large hand found its way to the back of Connor’s head to card his fingers through artificial but incredibly soft hair as the other tugged the mechanical man firmly into himself with a strong grip that promised not to lessen no matter how rough the waters got.

“That was the fucking shittiest proposal I’ve ever heard!” Gavin jeered from somewhere across the room but the insult ended in naught but a sharp yelp as Nines kindly dug a friendly elbow into where the asshole detective’s spilled coffee had burned his chest.


End file.
